𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐃𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐌𝐒 | rini & jolivia oneshots

i think your heart is haunted

Nini's always known New Orleans was a mysterious and haunted city. She's a paranormal aficionado. The legends, the stories, and the people. She's never expected to visit the city for her spring break——or have a brush with danger and fall in love.

Requested by Zazathepsycho.

"Caller 57! You have won a all expenses-paid trip to New Orleans this spring for one week with two friends!"

"Excuse me?! I only called to pay my phone bill!"

"Oh yeah, that can wait! Your tickets will be delivered to you in approximately one week from now."

The tickets arrived one week later. I invited my best friend Kourtney and my best guy friend, EJ. We boarded the plane, and I claimed the window seat first.

I've always wanted to visit Orleans. It's a mysterious and enchanting city. I've heard plenty of legends about the place, and I've gotta say, I'm invested. This would also be a good wave of ideas for the Salt Lake Tribune, the newspaper column that I wrote for. I'd been stuck on ideas for months, so this would make a great article.

That evening, we booked a room at a non-haunted hotel (to my disappointment) because Kourt and EJ have a deathly fear of ghosts.

The room looked fine enough. There were three beds, one in each corner. Kourtney dumped her suitcase on the floor and flopped down on the feather bed. "Ah, I could get used to this."

"It is comfortable," I admitted. "But I still don't forgive you guys for picking this totally boring hotel."

Then, an idea struck me.

"Who wants to go around New Orleans with me? Just sightseeing and exploring. Ooh, St. Louis Cemetery No. 1 is high on my bucket list!"

Kourt and EJ shuddered.

"Awe, no one wants to come along the French Quarter with me?"

Kourtney shuddered. "Ghosts. No thank you."

I shrugged. "Your loss. Heard it's really beautiful."

I walked along the streets of the French Quarter, looking at the old, historic houses. They were beautiful but had an aura to them.

Suddenly, I heard footsteps behind me. I whipped my head around. I was certain that I was alone, but who knew?

I saw nothing and no one. I exhaled. It's just your imagination.

Why, exactly, did I feel cold right now? I wrapped my jacket tighter around myself. It was spring, and from what I've heard, spring weather in the South is basically summer weather.

"Bonjour."

I whipped my head around and gasped.

Behind me was a man, in his early twenties. He was wearing old clothes; from the 19th century.

"Oh god, you scared me!" I exclaimed, pressing a hand to my chest. "I'm guessing you're a tour guide."

"Tour guide? I'm not a tour guide," the man said in a heavy French accent.

"Who are you?" I asked.

"Madame, I am Richard Bowen, or Ricky, as I prefer to be called. At your humble service."

He kissed my hand, which made me jump back in surprise. I guess this is what all French-Orleanians do.

The first thing I noticed about him: this man seemed odd.